Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 4): Gathering Storms

by Wohlrab, Jeff

  He was alive for a reason. He believed God had saved him for a purpose, but he didn’t know the purpose. What could he possibly be here to do? What was expected of him that someone else couldn’t do? Brent didn’t have the answers. He spent hours each day praying for guidance, but so far none had come.

  Was this to be his life now? Half alive and half dead, tired and broken, seeking answers which didn’t come? Why did his ass hurt so much? Did people grow more nerves in their buttocks as they aged or was he just missing some of the padding from that region of his body? Brinkley would probably know. She was clearly gifted. The young woman was intelligent, caring, and insightful.

  If he knew only one thing, he knew he was around good people. Many of them didn’t pray, but they didn’t object to his time spent communing with the Lord, either. They seemed to respect his beliefs, even if they didn’t necessarily share them.

  Marcy was doing wonders for Daniel, who was smiling more now than Brent had ever seen before. When they’d first met, he had thought the big man was a bit of a sarcastic asshole to be honest. It took him a little while to see that it was a defense mechanism to cover up a lot of hurt under the surface and that Daniel cared about them all a lot more than he let on.

  In fact, everyone seemed happy. The human spirit was a wonderful thing. Less than a year after the most terrible time in human history, they were already recovering. Living. Loving. Looking forward toward the future.

  He seemed to be the only one looking back. Brent felt the urge to pray again. He looked to his right toward the selection of churches in the small town, but they all seemed so far away. He was tired. Brent considered bowing his head there, but it seemed too casual and informal.

  Brent stood stiffly and waited a moment to let the blood resume flowing normally through his legs, which had grown slightly numb as he sat, and slowly climbed the steps. He paused when he saw the large cross on the stone pedestal. It had been all he could do, with help, to get it erected after some jackass pulled it down.

  Some of the bulbs had broken, but several of them still lit up at night to cast a warm glow over the point. This would do. He crossed the cracked concrete to the old stone structure and knelt at the base with his hands resting on the stones.

  “Oh Lord, what is thy will?” he whispered softly. “Why have you kept me here? Please give me a sign to let me know my purpose.” He remained there for several minutes, speaking in low tones like he was talking to a friend. When he stood up, he noticed Jensen pulling into the parking lot near the chapel far below.

  He lifted his hand in greeting, even though he was sure Jensen couldn’t see him, then he shambled up toward the hotel to his room. And a nap. Maybe next time he’d get an answer.

  Chapter 30

  Ken “Kenny” Rogers sat in the auditorium with five other men and one woman. He recognized one other pilot in the group, but didn’t know any of the rest. Colonel Strenke had asked him to be here, so here he was. They had been waiting for a good fifteen minutes making small talk when another man and a woman walked in together. These people he recognized. One of them was the young Army guy who had been advising the colonel on military tactics.

  Jensen gave them a wide smile as he walked over to the assembled crew. “Hey folks, I’m not sure if I’ve met any of you before, but I’m Jensen and this is Jessica. We’ll be training you to drive and operate the Army’s advanced wheeled expeditionary scout mobility vehicle.

  “All of you have been selected by Colonel Strenke as his personal choices to operate one of the most advanced warfighting machines in the world. I assume you have some sort of military experience?” Jensen asked.

  Of the collected group, only Kenny and two other men raised their hands. Jensen’s wide grin flashed to a quick expression of consternation before returning. Clearly, he had been expecting all seven hands to rise into the air. Kenny smothered a grin; he was very familiar with what happened when you assumed.

  In standard military fashion, Jensen continued. “Let’s start with some quick introductions and background. As I said, I’m Jensen Carlson. I was an Army Scout Commander and taught how to drive these machines at the school in Fort Benning.”

  He next deferred to the dark-haired young lady by his side, who told them, “My name is Jessica Thomas. I was in Air Force intelligence before joining the Columbia County Sheriff’s Department.”

  There was a moment of silence before Kenny decided to take the lead. He stood up and announced, “My name is Ken Rogers, but I go by Kenny. I’m a helicopter pilot.”

  Jensen dipped his head in acknowledgment and greeting. Kenny took that as his cue to sit down again. If he’d wanted more information, he would have said something.

  Following his lead, the other pilot stood up, “My name is Jack Donahue. I’m also a helicopter pilot.”

  Kenny knew that already, but he perked up in anticipation of the other introductions. He leaned forward in interest as he listened to the other five introduce themselves, trying to figure out why each one had been selected to pilot the armored vehicles. It seemed strange to have civilians piloting more than half of the vehicles when there were so many folks around with military experience.

  Another woman stood up next, “I’m Lacy D’Angelo. I was an engine commander with the Nashville Fire Department.”

  That left four. Next up was an older gentleman. “My name is Hank Stollins. I sorta did a little of this and that over the years. I worked at a grocery store for a number of years, but I got tired of dealin’ with customers. The customer is not always right, you know. Then I worked at a temp agency for a couple more years doing all sorts of odd jobs. I almost got picked up by a plastics company, but then I got hurt and they were afraid of a workman’s comp claim, so they let me go. I did landscaping for about ten years before I got into trucking. I didn’t make a lot of money at first, but I stuck with it and landed a gig in Texas hauling for the frackers in the oil fields. I only did that about half the month though. ‘Rest of the time I was out here.”

  He looked around as though his proclamation was going to initiate some sort of conversation. It was clear the old man liked to talk. Kenny was going to do his level best to not get paired up with him. With any luck, Hank would get a tub with a malfunctioning radio.

  The next man was brief. “Daquon George. I was a heavy equipment operator.”

  Neither one of the last two seemed to want to go first, eventually one stood up and announced, “Kirk Jordan. Systems engineer.”

  The last man stood up and told them, “Marco Sandoval. I was a forklift operator.”

  Jensen nodded. “So we’ve got a pretty wide range of backgrounds to work with.” He looked at Kirk, a younger man with big gauges stretching his ear lobes and a rod poking through his left eyebrow. “I think you’re going to have the easiest time with this. The systems aren’t overly complicated, but running a tub requires becoming more familiar with the systems and screens than it does experience driving.”

  Kirk grinned. “That’s what Paul told me when he asked me about doing this.” Noticing the puzzled look on Jensen’s face, he added, “Strenke. He figured I could continue to help operate the power plant and learn how to drive one of these bad boys so we had some better protection up there.”

  Jensen wasn’t certain how to react. He had just spoken with the colonel the day before about his plans to keep one tub at the dam and one at the power plant, so either the colonel had already made the decision before asking him or he worked really fast. It would definitely bear watching.

  “I’d say he’s right.” Jensen looked each of the assembled drivers in the eye as he continued. “These machines are extremely technical, but they don’t have brains. You’re going to need to learn them inside and out to be able to operate them effectively without killing yourself or someone else.

  “Which of you performed maintenance on your vehicles?” Jensen asked. This time only Marco, Daquon, and Hank raised their hands. “That’s good. You’re all going to need to know some b
asic mechanical theory just in case your vehicle starts to malfunction in the field. Unlike a deployment, we don’t have recovery vehicles up here, so you’ll need to be able to troubleshoot problems and fix them.”

  Once again, he met everyone’s eyes as he asked, “Is everyone comfortable with that? If not, you can leave now and head back to your old job.” Nobody moved.

  Jensen turned toward the door. “Ok, let’s go meet your new best friends.”

  As they trailed out the door, he kept an eye on the group behind him. The two helicopter pilots were bracketing the group, as if they were herding the others in the direction of the tubs. The one named Kenny was in the front, while Jack Donahue, the other pilot, brought up the rear.

  Behind Kenny was Lacy, the engine chief, and Kirk, the systems engineer. Daquon and Marco trailed a few feet behind them, and just in front of Jack was Hank. Jensen had been evaluating them since he first watched them walk into the auditorium that morning. Nothing they did would necessarily tell him anything definitive, but he liked to watch and form an opinion over time.

  He assumed the two pilots and Lacy would be comfortable working alone as well as being strong team members and leaders. You didn’t become a warrant officer or engine chief by being a wallflower. The other ones were a little more difficult to pinpoint.

  They stopped in front of the nine tubs parked facing the lake. “The one on the far end is mine. The pretty one next to it is Jessica’s.” Jensen looked for Kirk’s face in the group, “Kirk, since you’ll be stationed at the power plant, you’re going to get the third one from the end. It’s only got one functioning solar panel, so we’re going to keep it back. If you get the chance, maybe you can fix it,” he laughed.

  Kirk looked at the tub parked next to Jessica’s and shrugged. “Probably. I won’t know until I get into the systems.”

  Jensen looked surprised at the answer. He had been halfway joking when he suggested that Kirk fix the tub, but the response appeared to be completely serious. It reminded him that these men and women brought different skills to the fight. They weren’t kids fresh out of college learning to drive war machines.

  “That leaves six machines. Jessica and I are assigned to Alpha Company already. Did the colonel tell any of you which companies you’d be with?” Jensen asked them.

  This time nobody raised their hands or answered. Jack just shook his head.

  Jensen singled out Jack and Kenny. “What sort of helos did you fly?”

  Kenny was the first to answer. “Blackhawks and civvy choppers.”

  Jack waited until he was finished and just said, “Apaches.”

  The decision seemed pretty clear to Jensen. “Kenny, you’re in the fourth one from the right. I expect you’ll be the one to scout for the mortar truck.” Jensen had been torn between the two for the scout vehicle, but the fourth tub in was one of the ones with a malfunctioning grenade launcher. It seemed to make more sense to give the Apache pilot a fully functional weapon.

  Captain Carlson and Colonel Strenke had discussed the decision about where to place the vehicles which only had machine guns. They had decided that the ones at the dam and power station needed to be fully armed since those were their most strategic assets. They’d be backed up by MRAPs and gun emplacements.

  The scout vehicle for the mortar truck didn’t necessarily need a grenade launcher. Their job was to stay at standoff distance and call in indirect attacks. With any luck, they’d never even need the guns much less the comparatively short-range launcher.

  All of the pieces were falling into place, at least for the initial training. If the teams didn’t work out, Jensen would change them up before they started training with their own companies. He wanted someone responsible for the dam and was having trouble deciding who it should be. His gut feeling was to go with Lacy or Jack, but he also wanted them to be the team leaders for Bravo and Charlie.

  He didn’t really have a feel for Daquon or Marco yet, but he already trusted them with responsibility far more than he did Hank. The truck driver was probably a really nice guy, but he could be a doddering old fool just as easily. Just going with his gut, Jensen wanted to pair him up with Jack rather than someone from a minority group. Previous generations were generally less willing to take direction from women or minorities, and Hank seemed pretty damned previous generation.

  It wasn’t necessary to make the decision just yet, though. First he wanted to see how well they could work with each other. “The rest of you, please choose one of the remaining vehicles. There are six of them and six of you.” He grinned, “Unfortunately, one of them has a malfunctioning grenade launcher, and I’m not going to tell you which one, so it’s the luck of the draw.” He turned to Kenny saying, “You’ve got the other machine that’s guns only. No launcher on your tub.”

  Jensen left some of his decision-making up to chance. Whoever picked up the second tub without a grenade launcher was probably going to end up in one of the companies instead of at the dam. He would hopefully have several weeks to shake them out and figure out who it should be. He’d been surprised in the past at how well seemingly antagonistic people had found a common ground and worked well together when he’d expected just the opposite. He’d learned not to trust his initial hunches completely.

  His motto on the topic was, “If you can’t update your opinions with new knowledge, then your opinion isn’t based on knowledge to begin with, just emotion.” Emotion got people killed.

  Once the remaining members of the group had lined up by their machines, Jensen walked down the line and handed them their link modules. When he handed the final one to Marco on the end, he held his own up in the air. “This is your link module. Without it, you will not be able to enter or operate your machines. They are all cipher-locked to a single vehicle, your vehicle.

  “These machines are important because as far as I know, they’re the only ones in the country which have armor, weapons, and run on solar power, which means they have virtually unlimited range and capability compared to anything else out there. Everything else uses some sort of petroleum product to run, which is currently in very short supply.” Then, Jensen raised his voice and spoke slowly, “If you lose or damage your link module, your tub is dead. It will not move. It will not operate. It will not even open.” He looked down the line and paused to let the seriousness of the situation sink in. “Right now, I only know of nine tubs in this country which are still functioning, and they’re behind you. Do NOT lose or damage this link. It is now the most important thing to you in this life. Do I make myself clear?”

  He waited until he saw every head nodding, even Jessica’s. “We’re expecting to have to fight. We were attacked several times by a rising army in Georgia loyal to Senator Snead. Several of our friends were killed in the fighting. Some of us may be killed. This is serious. If you accept this responsibility, you will be in the fight and in danger. If you’d like to opt out, now is the time.”

  Jensen watched their faces waiting for someone to move. Jessica, Kenny, Jack, and Daquon all seemed calm, but he detected nervousness in the others. Lacy was the first one to break the silence. “I’m in.”

  Just to be sure, Jensen wanted positive confirmation. Silence was not consent. “Does that go for all of you?”

  Eight different voices chimed in at once, some quiet, some louder, but all positive. He had his crew. It was time to start training.

  Chapter 31

  Far to the south, Jasmine Sutherland watched the I20 bridges from midway up a tall metal tower. Across the highway was the South Carolina Welcome Center on the east side of the Savannah River. On the other side of the river from her was the matching welcome center on the Georgia side.

  Her job was to monitor the pair of interstate bridges tying the two states together. A few hundred yards away, three other members of her team rested, cooked, or amused themselves in a two-story brown house beneath a faded Olive Garden sign.

  They were part of an early warning system in the event a large group started
across the bridge toward Columbia, the state capital. There were similar teams in place at bridges further downstream, all watching for any large-scale movements toward the east.

  Small numbers of people crossed the bridge relatively frequently. Cobbled together families and groups on both sides of the river still traveled to the opposite shores to search for food, tend fields, or scavenge what they could from the homes nearby. People from what was left of Augusta came to South Carolina hoping to find something in the countryside. Folks from the countryside traveled into what was left of the city hoping to find something.

  Jasmine spent most of her shift making up stories about what the groups were looking for and what they actually found. It was tough to tell if they ever found a single thing. Sometimes groups going into the city would come back with one or more people missing. She didn’t know if they had stayed voluntarily or if something had happened to them.

  Other than that, all Jasmine did was watch the road and shift uncomfortably in the growing heat. At least there was usually a breeze above the tops of the trees, but the small wooden barriers they had erected on each side of the platform tended to block most of it.

  She had no idea what the tower was for, but she suspected it was probably for cellular communications based on its proximity to the interstate and North Augusta. If she was on shift in the evening, she’d imagine it was some sort of lighthouse and the river she was watching was the ocean. Solitude did amazing things for the imagination.

  This shift was going to be a little bit longer than most of hers. They were expecting their weekly call from Columbia any time now. As if on cue, Jasmine heard the faint growl of a generator starting up back at the house. The generator provided power for their video system set up in the office of the home. It allowed them to converse with their leadership.

  The small radio she had in the crow’s nest was hooked up to a little solar panel to keep it charged. It couldn’t reach very far, certainly not to Columbia. Its twin was down at the house with the rest of her group. They used it to radio suspicious activity or check in every hour or so. The timing wasn’t particularly crucial, but it did help her to stay awake.